


So Fearless

by Mira



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-30
Updated: 2005-11-30
Packaged: 2017-10-26 19:49:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/287199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mira/pseuds/Mira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Happy birthday to the <a href="http://lady-of-asheru.livejournal.com">Lady of Asheru.</a></p>
    </blockquote>





	So Fearless

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday to the [Lady of Asheru.](http://lady-of-asheru.livejournal.com)

"It was that Zoe Saldana, do you remember her? Did you meet her? I can't remember. She was there, and um, that guy, the tall one with the earring, what was his name? It was a funny name, not as funny as 'Orlando,' but still pretty funny." Orlando stared at Viggo expectantly.

Viggo smiled, trying to pay attention, but his thoughts kept drifting to the new supply of gold ochre from Verona. He pursed his lips and sighed.

"Anyway, she was there, and with him, but they -- in the toilet, you know? And I didn't want to be rude, coz I really like Zoe, and the other guy was nice, just tall, so he had to bend over and, like, hunch over, and then finally he just, well, on his knees, you know? It was so crowded, and it felt good, but other people were around, and, and. Well." Orlando stopped abruptly and looked at Viggo.

"And?" he said politely, wondering whether his grinding slab should be replaced and whether the linseed oil was too old.

"Um," Orlando said. Viggo noticed that he looked a bit pink, especially around the ears. An interesting look against his burnt sienna coloring. "Ah, I'm supposed to meet my agent --"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Orlando." Viggo roused himself. "It was good of you to stop by. You'll be in LA for a while? Let's meet for lunch."

"No, I wish, man, that would be, yeah. But no. I leave tonight for Ankhara, and then to Cappadocia." He shrugged. "Not sure when I'll be back."

Viggo nodded. "Well."

"Yeah, man. Thanks. Good to see you." Orlando stared at Viggo, biting his lip, and then turned to go.

"Wait." Viggo drew Orlando into his arms. "Thank you. Come back, little brother. I miss you."

Orlando didn't respond, except to lay his head on Viggo's shoulder for a moment. Then he stepped away, lips curling into a sad smile, raised a hand, and was gone.

Viggo sighed as he watched Orlando drive away. He wondered if the French ochre had arrived yet.

* * *

"The fairy chimneys were incredible," Orlando's voice called. He sounded distant, which, Viggo reflected, made sense; he was calling from Paris.

"And a fairy chimney is?" he asked.

"Oh, Vig, these, like, pyramids, only natural, and with boulders on top of them. I looked them up on the internet. They're pumice, and you can sleep in them."

Viggo wasn't sure he'd heard correctly; Orlando's voice kept fading in and out. "Are you on a cell?"

"Yeah, my mobile, why? Can you hear me?"

"Yeah, just." Viggo rubbed his eye and yawned. Typical of Orlando to have forgotten the time difference. "Up late partying?"

"A bit. I'm down by the Seine. It's kind of cold, but the lights on the water, and I can see Notre Dame. There should be snow."

"In June?"

"No, of course not, it's just. I dunno. I always wanted to be here in the snow."

"It would be beautiful," Viggo agreed. trying to remember if he'd ever been in Paris in the snow. Surely as much as he'd traveled he had, but he didn't have a clear recollection. Funny.

"Yeah. Someday, maybe."

"Someday."

"So how are you, Vig? Still painting, or are you onto knitting now?"

"Knitting?" He frowned, rubbing at his forehead. "I hadn't really thought of trying to knit. I wonder about weaving, though. I'd like to try that."

"Any movies lined up?"

"Yeah, actually you just caught me. I'm leaving for Toronto in a couple days. Doing another with David."

"Cronenberg? Will you see Howard there?"

"I hope so. He's already agreed to do the music."

"Tell him hi, yeah? I haven't seen him in years, not since London."

"I will, Orlando. It's good to hear your voice."

"Yeah. I just. Yeah. Good to hear yours, Vig. Take care."

"You, too, little brother."

Viggo thought he heard Orlando sigh, but then there was silence. He pressed "end" on the handset. Funny of Orlando to call like that. He hadn't seen or heard from him in months. Maybe a year.

He shook his head and replaced the handset carefully, so it would charge while he was away.

* * *

"You really moving to New Zealand?" Viggo asked, brushing the sand from the bottom of his beer bottle before sipping.

"Yeah, man. I miss it, and Evi loves it. Be cool to raise the kids there." Dom took a sip of his Evian; he was on the wagon again, Viggo was glad to see. "It was always a good place for me. Plus Bill and Ali are coming out, helping us move. Did I tell you it's like a duplex, so there'll always be room for guests? A whole house to yourself, Vig."

"When Billy's not there."

"Ah, Bill stays with us. He's family."

"And I'm not?"

Dom looked at him, oddly solemn. "Not like that." He leaned over and kissed Viggo lightly. "Only one Bills; you know that," he said almost apologetically.

Viggo nodded. That was certainly true. Only one Billy, and only one Dom. All these years later and they were still together in their own unique way. He did wonder how they had successfully navigated marriage and children so nothing was threatened. At least, nothing appeared to be threatened from Viggo's vantage point. There was no Scylla and Charybdis for them to avoid; they had successfully merged love and work and friendship.

Well, he'd puzzled over them for years, but it wasn't something he felt comfortable asking either of them, or their wives. It just was, like the sunshine and soft Hawaiian breeze.

"You will visit?" Dom asked.

"Course I will. How could I not? You hobbits need a fair bit of looking after even now."

"Tch," Dom said, but he smiled behind his sunglasses. "Speaking of hobbits, how's that elf?"

"Orlando? Fine, I guess. Haven't heard from him in a bit. You haven't either?"

"Not me, but Elijah did. They made a movie together so I got the skinny."

"How are they?"

"Elijah is well." Dom nodded, his mouth pursed. "It's been a bit difficult, you know; he still tries to look in on Sean, and that's a bit wearing. I hear mostly about Sean, but he and Orlando managed to get out and party, even at their advanced ages."

Viggo laughed quietly; he just bet they'd partied.

"But you don't hear from Orli?" Dom asked again.

"Well, hm." He scratched his head. "Not for a while. I think he was in Paris?"

"Shite friend you are," Dom said severely. "That was two movies ago."

Viggo shrugged. He did feel uneasy about Orlando, though damn if he knew why.

Then Dom's oldest charged down the beach, yelling at the top of his lungs, kicking a soccer ball toward them. "Christ, Dom," Viggo said, protecting his beer from the flying sand, but Dom was already up kicking at the ball himself, and Viggo resigned himself to being covered in Monaghans and sand.

* * *

"Vig!" Bean shouted at him, holding open his arms to encircle Viggo. Despite the thinning grey hair, Bean still looked robust and hearty.

"Damn," Viggo whispered, shocked by how pleased he was to find Sean here.

"Y'old bastard." Sean backed up, holding Viggo by his shoulders to study him. "You look a bit peaky. I heard you've been ill."

Viggo shrugged. "Some angina. Nothing, really."

"Liar. Me old man suffered from that. Terrified me, to see him clutch his chest. Sit down. A glass of red wine, yeah? That's what they say, red for health and hearts." He waved a server over. "Merlot? No, no. Let's try the ninety-seven Beaulieu Cabernet Private Reserve. Lovely, lovely wine," he confided to Viggo.

"I'm sure it is." He studied Sean. His face was a bit flushed, but his smile was the same. "Amazing to see you like this. What are you doing here?"

"Restocking my wine cellar, of course. You're makin' a movie, I hear."

"Yeah, just a small thing, indie, but the script appealed to me."

"Not to mention Henry wrote it."

They smiled at each other. The server brought the wine, slid the cork out, and handed it to Sean, who sniffed deeply at it and nodded. The wine was a deep color, almost chocolatey, and Viggo smiled even more as he watched Sean sniff into the glass, his big nose stuck right into the crystal bowl, and then swish a taste in his mouth. "Excellent. Yeah."

The wine was, Viggo admitted to himself, delicious, and complexly so; he closed his eyes to savor it better, leaning back in his chair. When he opened his eyes again, he said, "You're right. A lovely wine. And yeah, Henry wrote the screenplay, and the part, just for me. So I'm here."

"I'm glad you are. Been a long time."

Even now, after all these years, Viggo felt relaxed sitting quietly with Sean, no pressure to make idle conversation or check in with each other. They would speak, or they would not. They would enjoy the wine.

But Sean did speak. He leant forward, big arms on the tabletop, and looked intently at Viggo. The hair on his arms, Viggo noticed, was as grey as the hair on his head. "What're you playin' at?"

"Hm? Nothing, why?" Viggo was taken aback by Sean's intensity.

"We meet, y'know. Regular-like, at Dom's."

"I know. I've been."

"Not recently."

Well, that was true, Viggo admitted to himself, and nodded. "I talk to Dom all the time; Billy and Elijah, too."

"We're gettin' old, Vig. The world is changing. Dark times, dark times." He sipped his wine. "You still have your ranch in Sandpoint?"

"Yeah. Why? What's going on?"

Sean nodded, looking intently at Viggo. "Your last marriage didn't work out."

"Nor did yours," he replied with asperity. "Sean, knock off the mysterious horseshit. What's up?"

"Nothing. Just wondering why you're still alone. Why you married that bimbo."

"She wasn't -- okay, maybe she was. But she was fun, and, and." He stared at Sean. "Remind me why this is your business?"

"Because I'm one of your oldest friends. Because you're my brother. Because I love you."

Viggo felt his mouth open in surprise. He took a deep breath, and then a deep drink of the wine. "I don't know what to say."

"Good. No bullshit that way." Sean sat up a bit, then reached forward and grabbed Viggo's forearm. "No bullshit," he repeated, and then smiled.

"I'm glad we had this little talk," Viggo said.

Sean rolled his eyes. "You will be," he promised. Or threatened, Viggo wasn't sure which. He raised his wineglass to toast Sean, who smiled at him. "Did you see Andy's last movie? What a piece of shite."

* * *

"Hi."

Viggo stood holding open the front door, staring in surprise. "Hi."

"Um, yeah. I think. I'm coming in, okay?" Orlando said, lifting his chin.

"Yes, please, ah. Come in." He stepped back and watched as Orlando opened the screen door and stepped into Viggo's home. Behind him, Viggo could see his car, almost white with dust, parked in the drive. It looked packed. "What are? No, that can wait. I'll put on coffee. Or would you prefer tea?"

"Coffee, please."

Orlando followed him into the kitchen, and leaned against the counter, watching Viggo pull a bag of coffee beans from the freezer.

"You look good," Viggo said, trying to figure out why Orlando was here. "Haven't heard from you in a while."

"Nor I you."

Viggo was a bit uncomfortable under the intensity of Orlando's gaze. His eyes were still hidden behind sunglasses, his hair longer than the last time Viggo had seen him, the silvering curls tumbling onto his forehead and over his ears. "Well," Viggo said, switching on the coffeemaker. "Hi."

Orlando nodded. He stood quietly, more quietly than Viggo remembered him being, and then removed his glasses, exchanging them for another pair from his pocket.

Viggo had just opened his mouth when Orlando said, "I've been wanting to see you for years. But things kept happening. I got married again. I brought your gift back; it's in the car."

"You're returning a wedding gift? From, what, three years ago?"

"Five. Yeah. It's over. Didn't work out, again. But I figured it out. Took me a while. No, that's a lie."

He turned and looked out the kitchen window, so Viggo studied his profile, wondering what was going on. "I think I remember reading something about the divorce."

"Oh, yeah. It was spectacular." Orlando twisted his head to look at Viggo. "I got caught in bed."

"Oh. Oh, I remember --"

"Yeah. She had a camera. Spectacular. Or craptacular, as Dom said."

"Sorry, Orlando. I didn't know -- I don't think I was in the country."

"No, it's all right. You were in Argentina. But now you're here. And I'm here. And all that was years ago."

"Yes."

Orlando took a deep breath, and then stepped closer to Viggo, leaning against him. Viggo automatically put his arms around Orlando, who sighed and rested heavily against him.

They stood there, silent. Behind them, the coffeemaker sighed. Viggo gently lay his head against Orlando's, and watched the sunlight on the tile floor of his kitchen. He needed to mop again. He needed to water his garden, and mow the back lawn. Instead, he pushed his nose into Orlando's hair and smelt the highway and distance and shampoo.

"What are you doing here?" he whispered.

Orlando lifted his head to look into Viggo's eyes. "Don't you know?"

Something tight loosened in Viggo's chest, something unbound itself and unhindered him. It felt like the reverse of angina, more like his heart expanded and relaxed. "Maybe I do," he said softly. "But I'm a little afraid."

"Don't be," Orlando whispered back, his lips near Viggo's. Behind them, the coffeemaker gurgled, and sighed again. The air was suddenly scented with coffee and hope.

"The gift -- what did I give you? What did you bring back?"

"A wine rack. Mahogany, I think."

"Sean sent me a case of wine last month when I saw him."

"I know." Orlando's lips brushed Viggo's as he spoke.

"You know. And Sean knows. Who else?"

"Dom. Billy. Keira. Miranda. Dave. Philippa."

"Not me?"

"Dunno, Vig." He looked into Viggo's eyes, a serious, middle-aged man with skin the color of French ochre.

"I want to paint you," Viggo said, and leaned forward the tiniest bit, each word a kiss upon Orlando's lips. Orlando opened his mouth and gently sucked at Viggo's, licking his lips until he opened his mouth so Orlando could suck on his tongue. The kitchen was silent except for their kiss.

When Orlando finally pulled back, smiling at Viggo, he said, "Took me years to find the courage to do that."

"Took me years to figure out I wanted you to."

"We're a good match then."

"The best," Viggo said, shaking his head at his obtuseness, and then leaned forward again, hoping Orlando would find the courage to kiss him again.

And he did.

  



End file.
